


Dutifulness

by ylc



Series: Of true love and other myths [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit Of Jealousy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Arranged Marriage, Class Differences, Companion Piece, Forbidden Love, Greg and Mycroft aren't the ones engaged, M/M, Mycroft is bad at feelings, Pining, but no need to have read the previous fic, but not a lot of that to be honest, of sorts, that tag might be a little misleading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10867464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: Mycroft is well aware of his duties as the clan’s Heir and nothing is about to make him go astray.Or so he thinks.Sort of companion piece toLong shot, but no need to have read that before.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So… this. Well, the thing is that while I do have a lot of WIPs, they’re all Johnlock-centric and well... I’m missing some Mystrade in my life :P Besides, I been wanting to write this companion piece since forever and I figured I might as well give it a shot now.  
> Now, this is supposed to be a prequel of sorts to “Long shot”, in the sense that most of it takes place before the original fic. That being said, there’s no need to have read the previous work, unless of course you want to ;)  
> I’m not super happy with how it flows; I fear it feels a little stiff but since it is the first chapter and I’m trying to establish as much as possible from the universe… well. I hope it’s not boring?  
> Enjoy!

The sound of cheerful voices just down the path leading to the cave reaches Mycroft’s ears and he lets out a relieved sigh. The sun has just begun to set and Mummy and Father will be here any minute now. He has run out of excuses for his brother’s absence, so for the last half hour or so he has been silently praying he’ll actually make it back in time for once.

He remains sitting by the table, revising the few documents sprawled across it, now actually paying attention. His brother’s voice is coming closer and closer and he can feel himself relaxing.

Sherlock makes a displeased sound after noticing his presence and hurries to the deepest part of the cave, where they normally sleep. Mycroft keeps his face blank, although he can’t deny his brother’s attitude stings a little. He’s constantly covering up for him, he should be thankful of that at the very least.

“Well, would you look at that! We actually made it in time!” his brother’s companion announces, tone light and Mycroft rolls his eyes dramatically before turning to him, looking thoroughly unimpressed by their  _ punctuality. _

“You really shouldn’t indulge him,” Mycroft murmurs darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What was it this time?”

The other male shrugs non committedly. “Candy store. You can’t expect a kid to want to leave.”

Mycroft frowns, not liking the information one bit. “You’ve been visiting the human town far too often lately,” he says, getting ready for the argument he’s sure is about to come. “You know that our clan doesn’t exactly approve of  _ mixing  _ with humans that much.”

His interlocutor bites his lip, looking a tad guilty. Gregory comes from one of the clans in the north, where werewolves and humans live practically together, so he keeps forgetting things are quite different here and such differences could land him in trouble. Also, Mycroft suspects, Gregory has a soft spot for Sherlock and so the younger one can manipulate him to do as he pleases.

“It won’t happen again,” he promises and at Mycroft’s raised eyebrow he amends, “it won’t happen again in a while.” He smiles winningly and something flutters in Mycroft’s insides. He frowns, not liking the sensation one bit, nor the fact that only Gregory seems capable of producing such reaction on him.

Mycroft hums, turning his attention back to his documents while the other entertains himself with looking for something to eat. According to Gregory, living in caves is just plain ridiculous and the epitome of uncomfortableness; human’s housing much more agreeable. Of course, no member of the pack would be caught dead attempting to imitate the humans living conditions and so the werewolf has had to get used to their way of living.

“How is it going, then?” Gregory asks, coming to sit next to him. Mycroft raises an eyebrow and the younger male smiles knowingly. “With the princess, I mean.”

“Heiress,” Mycroft corrects calmly, putting his papers down. “Werewolves clans on this side of the mountain range aren’t monarchies, Gregory. I do find your organization system most odd, I must say,” he musses out loud, earning himself a grin from his companion. “Lacking any proper leadership doesn’t seem particularly wise. And leaving what passed as such to the humans- simply insane.”

Gregory hums thoughtfully. “Well, it certainly didn’t work out for us,” he says, aiming to sound light hearted and failing miserably. Mycroft bites his lip, thinking he should have phrased his words a little bit better. The other male certainly doesn’t need any reminders of the annihilation his people suffered.

Mycroft pursues his lips and the other male shrugs non committedly, understanding his unspoken apology. He leans back on his seat, staring at the ceiling for a little while. “So, the princess, heiress, whatever?”

Mycroft sighs, absentmindedly pulling at his clothes. “Well enough, I suppose.”

“Wow. Try not to sound so enthusiastic, huh?”

“It’s an arranged marriage, Gregory,” Mycroft protests, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Enthusiasm is not a prerequisite.”

His companion makes a face, clearly not liking the idea. “Yes, but, umm… shouldn’t you- like her a little?”

“I like her well enough,” Mycroft says, although he doesn’t quite mean it. Werewolves are, above all, practical creatures with no real concept of romance or love. They know what the humans understand for such things, but they don’t particularly care for either. Marriage is about alliances and reproduction and perhaps company and so as long as he and his future partner get along, it’s all fine.

Of course, just like his brother, he has failed to secure an intended. But unlike his brother, Mycroft has actually been trying: he’s polite and dare he say it, even  _ nice  _ but it just hasn’t worked out. While  _ love  _ isn’t a requisite, a mutual understanding between the couple _ is  _ and Mycroft-

Well. It just hasn’t worked out.

He’s hopeful with the latest Heiress, though. Anthea doesn’t seem to care either way and so he thinks they might actually reach an agreement. Unless of course he manages to bore her to death (as he apparently has all his previous prospects) and they’ll be fine.

He realizes he has gotten lost in his thoughts and now Gregory is staring at him expectantly. He clears his throat, aware of the light blush spreading across his cheeks and forces himself to turn his attention back to the documents he’s revising.

“Wouldn’t you be happier with a male Omega?” Gregory questions suddenly and Mycroft glares, silently asking for the matter to be dropped, but of course the other one ignores him. “I’m just saying- I’ve seen you around female Omegas and you just don’t seem that interested. Males though-”

In all honesty, Mycroft doesn’t have a strong preference either way. In all truth, he’d much rather avoid this whole charade, but that’s not really his call. And, if he wants to save Sherlock from the Council’s close scrutiny, he’d better secure a fiancé soon, so no one gets any crazy ideas about marrying his baby brother off to a human, as they apparently want to.

“Gregory, your concern is not wanted or appreciated,” he announces darkly, making the younger male flinch. “You should go now. Mummy and Father will be here any minute now.”

“Right,” the other says, standing up and looking thoroughly annoyed. A part of Mycroft feels guilty, but he hurries to ignore the distracting feeling and turns his attention back to his papers, although he hasn’t actually understand a thing of what he has read. “I’ll see you around.” Mycroft nods in farewell, forcing himself not to look up and stare at Gregory’s retreating back, but in the end he gives into his foolish impulse and looks up just in time to watch the other exit the cave.

God, what the hell is wrong with him?

* * *

 

_ Taking in _ lone wolves is not something packs actually do. It’s generally assumed that a wolf that has been exiled from his clan did something to deserve it and so they’re undesirable members.

Gregory’s case however-

Sherlock had come across the injured werewolf while searching for something in the woods  (he wouldn't say what and Mycroft had learned long ago that sometimes it’s just better not to ask). A long injury across his side, made with a silver sword, had rendered him incapable of turning or communicating in any form and so, after a lot of pleading from Sherlock (although he’d deny it if asked), Mummy had agreed to let him stay, at least until he healed.

It had been a couple of difficult months, with the clan’s healer convinced there just was no way of saving him and Sherlock’s insistence to do just so. Why had his little brother developed such a deep attachment, in so little time, with no participation from the other party whatsoever was a mystery that remained unsolved, although Mycroft is grateful for it: Sherlock was always a lonely child that refused to be around other werewolves and so he worried constantly for his brother’s fate.

Now he worries about  _ unadvised  _ activities, but he’s willing to call it progress anyway.

After Gregory recovered and shared his story, and once more, after a lot of pleading from Sherlock, Mummy had agreed to take him in. The Council had been far from pleased, but the membership of the pack is one of the few things Mummy has complete control of and so they had had to accept him.

Mycroft assumes it hasn’t been easy for the younger one to adapt to a new pack and a new set of rules, but he has made do. It can’t be easy living alone either, especially after all he’s been through, but it’d be terribly unseemly for him to live with someone he’s not related to, particularly being an unbonded Omega.

He spends a ridiculous amount of time at their cave, though. Mostly because Sherlock is constantly dragging him along for one thing or another, but Mycroft suspects it’s also because the older werewolf would much rather not be on his own. Having always been a bit of a loner, he can’t really say he understands, but he’s certainly not about to question it.

Besides, he does think Sherlock needs friends and he’s glad he has finally made one, even if there’s quite an age gap between them.

“Gods, he’s like a newborn pup,” Gregory comments, dropping himself at one of the chairs, looking tired but happy. “Full of energy and completely dependent on you.”

Mycroft chuckles, glancing in the direction his brother disappeared a few minutes earlier. He can now hear Sherlock’s soft snores and he thinks he’ll be joining his brother soon enough. It’s been a long day and he’s quite tired, but he also knows it’s unlikely he’ll get any sleep while his parents are out.

“So,” Gregory says, tone falsely cheerful, making Mycroft look at him immediately, suspecting the worse. “Rumor has it, it’s official now.” When Mycroft simply looks at him questioningly, the other huffs. “Your engagement.”

Oh, that. “That’s supposedly what my parents are doing right now. Going through the last details with Anthea’s parents,” he replies placidly, smiling a bit at the thought of that particular nightmare finally being over.

“Shouldn’t you be there?” the other asks and there’s a funny look on his face that Mycroft doesn’t know how to interpret and so he chooses to ignore.

“It’s not necessary,” he says, shrugging. “We’ve said to each other all that needed to be said.”

Gregory shakes his head, looking oddly pained. “Don’t you- don’t you ever wonder how it’d be like to actually care about your choice of spouse?” he asks, tone soft and infinitely sad, which makes something within Mycroft ache.

“As I’ve said before,  _ love  _ is a very human notion. We tolerate each other well enough and there doesn’t seem to be anything we particularly disagree on, so-”

“Well, yes, but-” Gregory bites his lip, interrupting himself. “Nevermind. You’re probably thinking I’m being silly.”

He  _ is _ being silly. Spending so much time  _ mixing  _ with humans has certainly messed up with his perception of how things work. Love is a concept that in fact  _ doesn’t exist  _ and so it’s ridiculous to even expect such thing from a marriage. Besides,  _ sentiment  _ in general is nothing but a distraction and a nuisance. Not something he wants any part in, honestly.

And yet-

“I do see the appeal of romantic concepts,” he says slowly, measuring his words carefully so they won’t upset his companion. “But for me, it’s a matter of convenience. A marriage like the one my parents have, where they actually  _ like  _ each other seems far too complicated since it seems to involve actual…  _ feelings. _ ”

Gregory stares at him for a couple of seconds, expression disbelieving. “So what exactly do you want?”

“I do not  _ want  _ anything, Gregory,” Mycroft stresses, not particularly liking how tight his chest feels. Why is he reacting like this, anyway? “It’s a matter of what I need. I’m the Heir of this clan, so I’m going to need a Mate to give me descendants who can inherit the leadership. I need a Mate so the Council will desist on attempting to marry off my brother, since he’s so obviously unsuited for such thing. I’ll marry because that’s my duty.”

He feels like he has said too much so he clamps his mouth shut and turns away, pointedly ignoring the other male. He can tell Gregory wants to add something, but he’s hesitant and Mycroft is not in the mood for this (whatever  _ this  _ is) and so he stands up and heads towards the back of the cave with the firm intention of going to sleep if only to shut up his scattered thoughts.

He can practically see his companion hesitating between following him and leaving, but good sense seems to win in the end, for he soon notices he’s alone once more. He sits on the dark corridor, trying to get his breathing back under control and wondering what exactly is happening to him. Why has this silly discussion affected him so?

“You’re an idiot, you know?” Sherlock informs him very seriously, appearing out of nowhere and startling him a bit. “Can’t you tell what’s going on here?” Mycroft just glares at him and the younger male rolls his eyes dramatically. “God, you’re really an idiot.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving Mycroft alone with his confused thoughts.

What does Sherlock mean?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter!  
> Took me a while, didn’t it? I’m sorry. I struggled a bit with where I wanted this chapter to go and I’m afraid there’s not much happening but well…  
> Enjoy!

It doesn’t seem like it’ll ever stop raining.

Mycroft huffs, dropping himself at the front of the cave and watching the rain fall. The gloomy weather seems to match his mood perfectly and he huffs at the thought: it’s ridiculous, really, but-

He sits up after noticing movement close enough to the path leading to the cave and he gets ready to defend his home if it came down to it. Mummy and Father are probably still at the Council’s cave, since neither of them is young enough to risk getting soaked in this downpour.

Another movement and Mycroft notices the hidden creature is in fact his brother, his black fur giving him the perfect camouflage in the dark. He huffs, self consciously noticing the way his ginger fur makes him stand out even now. It’s an odd color, especially among their clan and Mycroft has never particularly liked it, always envying Sherlock more… traditional looks.

He snaps back into attention after noticing something moving behind his brother. He howls, intending to alert the younger male and getting ready to run in his defense, when he notices the new arrival's silver fur and he rolls his eyes as he watches his brother wrestling with his attacker playfully, not caring about the mud sticking to his fur or the pouring rain.

God, Sherlock is well into his 40’s, he shouldn’t be playing like a pup in the rain.

He howls once more, getting the attention from the wrestling wolves. Even in his current form Sherlock manages to convey his annoyance at his interference, but he does hurry into the cave with Gregory hot on his heels. Mycroft watches in distaste as the males attempt to shake off the water and makes a face as he watches the trail of mud they’re leaving on their wake.

Oh, Mummy isn’t going to be pleased.

It’s not like the cave’s floor can actually stay clean, but Mummy does try. She’s a bit… particular about cleaningness and Sherlock leaving muddy paw prints all over what passes as the living room won’t end well.

Not to mention the other set of paw prints, of course.

With a sigh. he switches back and regrets it almost immediately. It’s bloody freezing due the heavy rain and even after getting his coat, he doesn’t feel warmed. Sherlock and Gregory are standing in a corner, shivering like a pair of stray animals and Mycroft rolls his eyes before fetching a pair of heavy blankets for each.

The pair turn back to their human form and Sherlock makes himself scarce right away, after murmuring something about Mycroft being useful for once. The older werewolf sighs, carefully building up a fire in hopes of fighting off the chill that now seems to have crawled into his very bones.

“What were you two doing now?” he asks as Gregory comes to sit as close as possible to the fire, shivering despite the blankets, hair soaked and raindrops still running down his face. He looks… roguish and strangely handsome and Mycroft has to look away before his thoughts start running wild.

“Nothing much,” the other one says with a shrug. “Sherlock wanted to examine some abandoned cottage in the woods and we got caught in the rain. When it became evident it wasn’t about to stop anytime soon, we decided to make a run for it.” He smiles brightly and Mycroft’s stomach flips funnily. “The little bastard is incredibly quick. I’d say he cheated, but I’m not sure how.”

“And the puppish wrestling?”

Gregory rolls his eyes dramatically, smiling still. “Oh, relax. It was just a bit of fun.”

Mycroft doesn’t comment, having gotten distracted by the mud clinging to Gregory’s face and body, irreparably ruining his blankets. Mummy is going to kill him now, no doubt. 

When he looks back to the other male’s face, his companion seems to have noticed his distress and is smiling a bit sheepishly, which in turn makes Mycroft’s cheeks heat up. Which is a ridiculous reaction, so of course he hurries to ignore it.

“Your brother, he didn’t get to play much as a pup, did he?” Gregory questions suddenly, expression oddly fond, but somewhat sad. “He just seems… I get the impression he didn’t have many friends.”

Mycroft sighs, dropping himself next to his companion, enjoying the warmth coming from the fire. “Not really. I’m his senior by a decade and I’ve always been very…  _ serious,  _ let’s say, so I didn’t indulge in his play requests. And he never… he’s not very good at socializing, truth to be told and so other kids didn’t-” he interrupts himself, remembering just how badly things sometimes went when Sherlock tried to befriend other pups. “He was very lonely.”

Gregory hums. “Yeah, I figured as much. I’ll never understand why he took such a shine on me, but of course I’m not complaining.” He smiles softly and Mycroft’s heart flutters inside his chest. “He’s a good kid.”

Mycroft smiles back tentatively, unaccustomed to the gesture. He’s always been a bit of a loner and the only times he interacts with other werewolves is when he’s at official meetings, where the occasion to smile sincerely is practically non existent.

“So,” Gregory says, biting his lip as if unsure whether or not to continue and so Mycroft arches an eyebrow. “I heard the negotiations with your would-be-fiancé ran a bit awry.” Mycroft scrunches his nose in displeasure and frowns a second later, wondering why Gregory seems to find the subject of his marriage so interesting.

“Indeed,” he agress softly, shrugging. “Her parents tried to press for a…  _ double deal _ , let’s call it and of course Sherlock had something to say on the matter. Not that I’m disinclined to agree with him since the Mate they intended for him wasn’t… it wouldn’t have worked.”

“He was a nasty piece of work,” his companion says, a slight smirk on his face. “Run into him at the village. Someone you definitely don’t want anywhere near your brother.” He frowns, evidently displeased at something. “I’m glad your parents didn’t force the issue with Sherlock.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” he says flippantly, his lips curving upward. “Sherlock can be… stubborn.”

Gregory chuckles, a warm sound that makes Mycroft’s stomach flip funnily. “That’s one way to call it,” he agrees good naturedly and Mycroft is beginning to fear he’s having a heart attack or something. Why does his heart keep doing that? “So, single once more, huh?”

Mycroft sighs, shrugging non committedly. “It seems so. Not that I mind either way.”

His companion nods, before offering him another smile that looks a bit… sad. “Well, I’ll better get going.”

“The rain hasn’t stopped,” Mycroft finds himself pointing out and regrets it a second later. What exactly is he offering, anyway? The other male has turned to him, expectantly, looking a bit perplexed. “Perhaps you should stay.”

“I don’t think it’ll stop anytime soon,” Gregory argues, unsure. “And I’m tired. I really want to go to sleep, the sooner I get home-”

“You could spend the night.” Mycroft hears himself saying, although the words leave his lips without any conscious thought. He blinks, thinking there’s obviously something wrong with him, but, for some reason, he can’t bring himself to worry much.

“I… Would that be a good idea?” the other questions, a light frown obscuring his factions, looking thoroughly puzzled. “Isn’t that… umm… improper somewhat?”

Yes, very. “You can stay with Sherlock. He’s an Omega too so it shouldn’t…” He shrugs, ignoring the way his ears seem to be burning. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Gregory asks and Mycroft pursues his lips. He is, very much so, but he’s not about to share a sleeping cot with Gregory and his brother. It’s common for siblings to sleep together, to keep themselves warm and protected, but it’d be heavily frown upon to have an stranger with them.

Then again, no one needs to know.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and offering his hand to his companion to pull him up. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Gregory bites his lip, evidently still unconvinced but willing. Mycroft nods stiffly to himself before turning around and heading to the back of the cave, ignoring his loudly beating heart and the way his hands are sweating.

Something is definitely wrong.

He just hopes it’s not lethal.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock peers at them through half lidded eyes and huffs, before moving to make space for them. He’s still huddled under the heavy blanket, back on wolf form and so Mycroft turns before dropping himself next to his brother. He turns to Gregory expectantly, who is still clutching his own blanket tightly and he turns around, facing the wall, giving the other male some privacy.

He’s acutely aware of the extra body lying next to him, but he attempts to relax, curling over Sherlock as he usually does. His brother is a bit…  _ sensitive  _ to cold and so they have found this is the easiest way to keep him warm. He feels Gregory shifting closer, probably searching for warmth too and questions the brilliance of his idea. This just isn’t regular and it’s certainly improper, but it doesn’t feel wrong.

If anything, it’s kind of nice.

He has never had much interest in getting a Mate, but he must admit he does like the idea of having a family of his own. He remembers looking after Sherlock when he was very little and while he was never a good playmate, he fancies he was a good and caring guardian. He loves his brother deeply, even if he’s bad at showing it and the idea of having a bunch of little pups running around his home and curling with him to sleep… well, it’s a very tempting image.

He turns his head a little, so he’s facing Gregory once more. The silver wolf has already fallen asleep, body completely relaxed. On a whim, Mycroft presses his snout closer to the other’s neck, inhaling his smell and he closes his eyes, making a soft approving noise.

It’s nice, very nice.

He realizes he has sink his snout further into the other’s fur and he pulls away immediately, so violently that he disturbs Sherlock, who growls in protests. He hurries to make a soft soothing noise that has his brother falling back sleep shortly after and Mycroft scents him now, comforted by the familiar aroma and trying to ignore their other bedmate.

He thinks he might know why his silly body keeps reacting so oddly around Gregory.

But he doesn’t like his theory one bit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?
> 
> I’m fearing this might be going a bit slow and so a bit boring, but maybe that’s just me. I’m not really used to the whole  _ slow burn  _ thing :P
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought, pretty please?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, but well… Enjoy!

Mycroft hums happily, curling closer to the source of warmth next to him. He can hear the rain still falling outside and there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him he’s forgetting something, but all seems rather unimportant. He’s warm and cozy and he has no plans of moving any time soon.

“Oh, Mummy would be horrified,” Sherlock announces, sounding delighted and Mycroft makes a displeased sound, determined to ignore him in favour of his lovely cocoon of warmth and happiness, but then he realizes there’s something wrong with his scenario.

He blinks awake, feeling more than a tad confused. He’s still lying over someone, but his brother is standing in front of him, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Mycroft blinks once more before slowly sitting up, gazing at his bed companion.

Oh.

“Indeed,” Sherlock says, delighted at being the one with the upper hand for once. “What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now, brother dear?”

Mycroft rolls his eyes dramatically as he considers the merits of shifting back to his human form. On one hand, it’s difficult to communicate all his thoughts while in this form, since he can’t properly talk. On the other hand,  _ he can’t reply  _ and that might actually play in his favour in this particular case.

Sherlock doesn’t seem to care either way, judging by the way he smirks smugly at him before turning on his heel and leaving Mycroft’s sight, humming contently to himself.

Mycroft sighs, dropping down once more, earning himself a huff from his bedmate. He considers moving away a little, but promptly dismisses the thought: he  _ is  _ comfortable and there’s really nothing wrong with what they’re doing. 

Right?

Right.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up again, the source of warmth is gone and he’s alone in the room. It’s still raining outside and he sighs, mentally going through their list of supplies. He had been postponing going hunting, mostly because he really hates the legwork it involves and that means they’re nearly out of meat now. There might be some fruit and vegetables in their small pantry, but werewolves are mostly carnivores. 

Of course a missed meal is not a matter of great importance, but while this part of the continent doesn’t get that much rain, it can rain for weeks when it actually does. If that’s the case, he supposes he can’t wait until it’s not quite as heavy, but that might take a while.

This is what he gets for not taking appropriate precautions.

He stands up and heads towards the living room, not bothering to change form. He prefers this one, to be honest; less delicate and more capable of surviving on adverse circumstances.

He finds Sherlock sitting in front of the fire, expression contemplative. He’s in human form, stoking the fire, but his mind seems far away. That’s often the case with his little brother: his body might be here, but he’s always lost in his own thoughts. 

Something that no one from the clan particularly appreciates.

Mycroft sits next to him, resting his head over his leg. Sherlock rolls his eyes, but doesn’t push him away, running his fingers through his fur. It’s soothing, more than anything, although most werewolves would find it undignified: they’re not domestic dogs, after all.

He worries about Sherlock and his future constantly. Being the only two children of the Clan Leader, they’re both expected to marry to cement alliances with neighboring clans. Mycroft truly has never minded since he’s not even slightly romantically inclined (as most of their race) but Sherlock has always been different. Maybe that’s why he likes humans so much: their endless romanticism and their ability to keep on hoping, no matter how dark the future looks.

Mycroft however, is much more practical and so his concerns are also of a practical nature. Love isn’t expected in any union; as he has endlessly said before, love is human concept. His brother might be hoping to find in his Mate a kindred spirit, but Mycroft only hopes he’ll find someone that will tolerate his oddities and not attempt to make him act more… normal.

Regardless of what he likes to think, he knows his brother is very soft hearted.

He would sigh, if he could in this form, but he can’t so he settles for rubbing his cheek against his brother’s knee. Sherlock giggles a bit, pushing him away and offers him a small smile that looks mostly sad. He wishes there was something he could do to make his brother feel better and/or spare him of his fate, but things are what they are and it’s useless wishing for them to be different.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Sherlock says, a slight smirk on his lips. “Greg isn’t here.”

Mycroft sits up straighter right away, looking around them. The room is indeed empty of any other werewolf and something sits ill with him at the sight. Gregory should be here, he told him he could stay here. There was no point in him risking his way back home on his own and in this weather, he should-

“Relax, will you?” Sherlock says, still smirking, seemingly pleased with Mycroft’s reaction. “He realized we were nearly out of meat and went out to get something.”

Mycroft blinks and then proceeds to shift into human form. “And you let him go on his own? In this weather?”

Sherlock shrugs non committedly. “You know I don’t hunt. I’m a poor helpless Omega, after all.” 

Mycroft rolls his eyes. Pups are taught to hunt from a very young age, expected to be able to feed themselves if the need arise but once they present, Omegas are usually discouraged of continue doing it, although it’s not exactly frown upon if they decide continue fending for themselves and it’s actually quite usual for them to continue doing so, since many choose not to mate.

That of course it’s not really an alternative for his younger brother and so he seems quite set upon being as much of a nuisance as he can for his future Mate.

Mycroft sighs, figuring it’s useless to continue arguing with the younger male. He considers the merits of going looking for Gregory and promptly dismisses the thought: it’d be hard enough to track him on a normal day, it’ll be nearly impossible to do so in this weather.

Which of course also makes the whole hunting thing a bit more complicated.

He wonders why Gregory thought that was a good idea. He should have waited for Mycroft to wake up and let him figure something out. He should-

He frowns, confused by his sudden line of thought and surprised by how annoyed he is that his Omega didn’t trust him to fix the problem. Then again, Gregory isn’t his  _ anything  _ and that way of thinking will bring him nothing but trouble. If this was someone else, anyone else really, Mycroft would have simply shrugged it off and be happy he wasn’t the one doing the legwork.

He tells himself he’s just being prideful and he’s just annoyed Gregory didn’t wait for him, since it would have been safer and they would have finished quicker if they went together. He knows that it’s a lie, but what else can he do, really?

Now is not the time to be reconsidering his stance on the subject of love.

He likes Gregory, sure, but that’s it. And sure, he’s worried about him because the woods can be quite dangerous in the dark and while a werewolf could fight off most of the threats lurking  around there’s always the chance of getting injured and he wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, if only because Sherlock would become insufferable if that was the case, but there’s certainly nothing more to it. 

Certainly not.

And if he goes to sit outside, watching the edge of the woods a little too closely, hoping for a flash of silver fur…

Well, that’s nobody’s business but his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> As I said, it’s rather on the short side, but I rather liked it and I thought adding another scene really didn’t work. We’ll be getting a bit more of romance very soon, I promise!  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new update! I’m sorry for how long it took and I really have no excuses so…  
> Anyway, enjoy!

It takes 4 days for the rain to stop.

By the minute it does, Sherlock is already running out of the cave, evidently frustrated by having been stuck inside it for so long. His brother doesn’t really do well in closed spaces, always preferring to have place to run and hide and find some distraction or another. 

They couldn’t be more different, really.

Mycroft sighs, watching his brother disappear among the trees. It’s a sunny day with a mild weather and he doubts there’ll be any more rain soon, but he still wishes he wouldn’t stray far away. The roads are slippery and the woods can be treacherous. 

“I probably should go after him,” a voice says next to him, startling him a bit. He looks over his shoulder at his companion and nods stiffly; in all truthness he’d much rather keep the other male with him, but the thought is ridiculous (not to mention dangerous) and it wouldn’t do to entertain such silliness.

Gregory’s gaze lingers on him, mouth opening as if he wants to say something, but he seems to think better of it, looking away. Mycroft frowns, a tad confused, but chooses not to say anything either. Considering the crazy directions his thoughts take lately around the other werewolf, it might be for the best to keep his silence.

“Goodbye then,” the other says after a bit, his tone perhaps a bit regretful, but Mycroft refuses to think long about it. He nods once more and then his companion does something that leaves him frozen on the spot, mind blank and more than a tad breathless.

Gregory presses a quick kiss on his cheek before turning into his wolf form and disappearing in the direction of the woods. Mycroft stays where he is, heart beating erratically, his cheeks a dark shade of red.

He places a hand over the place where Gregory’s lips landed, his skin feeling oddly warm there. Kisses are another of those  _ human behaviors _ ; not something werewolves do often although it’s not completely unheard off. It’s just- kisses are messy and they don’t seem particularly hygienic and truth to be told, Mycroft has never been curious about them until this very moment.

God, what’s happening to him?

 

* * *

 

Mummy takes one sniff once she has made it inside the cave and sends a dark glare in Mycroft’s direction. He continues sitting where he is, pretending to be lost in his perusal of some boring documents and his mother huffs, before heading deeper into the cave. Father follows, sniffing curiously too and sending a concerned look in his oldest son’s direction before disappearing in the same direction his wife did.

Mycroft sighs, bracing himself for what is to come. It’s been 3 hours since Gregory left, but his scent lingers in the air, which is completely normal, considering the length of his stay. He knows his scent will be stronger in his and Sherlock’s sleeping cot and he dreads what Mummy will say: having invited the other werewolf to stay with them was unseemingly enough, allowing him to sleep with them…

Well. This is bound to get messy.

He looks up at the sound of his mother clearing her throat and it takes every bit of his self control not to flinch under her stern stare. She has wrapped a heavy cloak around her and she looks quite regal, an odd look on her while she’s home, where she prefers to wear much simpler clothes, no matter the weather.

Mycroft sighs, looking back at his documents. His mother is going to treat this as if it was official business, which is a dark prospect, although he supposes it makes sense. As the clan’s Heir, he can’t run around acting all reckless and he certainly can not pursue a technically lone werewolf, with no clan or connections to be of any use to the pack.

“So,” she begins, tone suspiciously light considering the way her eyes are shining with frustration. “What happened?”

Mycroft bits his lip, unsure of what to say. “It was raining. Sherlock had dragged Gregory… somewhere and then they came back when the rain was too heavy; I thought-”

“Did you?” his mother interrupts sharply, crossing her arms over her chest and Mycroft looks down, feeling like a pup. He doesn’t appreciate his mother’s tone, although he understands he did something quite foolish. What’s worse, if pressed, he couldn’t explain  _ why  _ he did it.

“Mycroft,” Mummy says, tone kind, placing a hand on top of his and Mycroft tries hard not to snatch it back as if he’s been burned. He stares at the woman for a beat, before dropping his eyes once more, unsure of what he feels. “My dear, you know you can’t. But to be honest- I’m much more curious about why you’d want to.”

Mycroft bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t like the way his mother utters those last words: dismissive, full of conceit. He feels his blood boiling with anger, but he doesn’t understand why and that he hates more than anything.

“You need to forget about this nonsense,” his mother says, pulling her hand away, to Mycroft’s eternal relief. “We’ll find you a suitable match and we can put all this… unpleasantness behind.”

Mycroft nods, as he’s expected to and his mother smiles, standing up and turning around. He watches her go in silence, his mind abuzz with uncertainty and a feeling he can’t hope to describe.

This  _ feelings  _ business is most inconvenient.

And yet-

 

* * *

 

Mycroft might not look like much of a fighter, but he certainly is. So, while the unexpected shadow that falls upon him the second he enters the darkest part of the woods takes him by surprise, he recovers quickly, pinning his attacker to the ground just a few seconds later.

He growls, thinking he’d roll his eyes if he could. His brother lets out a sound that he’d describe as a chuckle, if they were in human form and he rolls off the younger male, glaring at him although he can deny he’s a little curious. 

Their relationship is difficult, there’s no denying that and lately, Sherlock does his very best to avoid him as much as possible. The fact pains Mycroft, but he has learned to accept it and try not to feel hurt by it.

This impromptu attack however… When they were younger, Sherlock would follow him into the woods and jump him over in order to get his attention, wanting to discuss some subject he didn’t think wise to discuss in front of their parents. If that’s the case though, Mycroft can’t help to feel a little wary, considering his own relationship with his parents is a bit… strained, at the moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, switching to human form and Sherlock makes a face, switching too.

“Nothing’s  _ wrong _ ,” he deadpans, with a roll of his eyes. “Not with me, anyway.”

Mycroft looks away, already knowing where this is heading and not caring one bit for it. “Sherlock,” he says with a warning tone, but his brother merely huffs.

They stare at each other for the longest time, both assessing their options. “I think- I don’t think it’s  _ nonsense _ ,” his brother murmurs softly. “And I don’t think you should forget about it.”

Mycroft stares at his brother, his heart clenching painfully. He appreciates the support, he really does, but he also knows it’s rather pointless to even consider it: as Mummy said, he knows he can’t.

But he  _ wants _ .

Sherlock stares at him for another beat before huffing once more and turning back to wolf form, promptly disappearing among the trees. Mycroft takes a deep breath, looking up at the sky and wondering if he’s willing to act recklessly, for once in his life.

He’s afraid the answer might be yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> It took me forever to write this, I know, but well… I hope it was enjoyable anyway.  
> Pretty please let me know what you thought?  
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so, so sorry about the late update but well… I was bit stuck with where was this heading, but I think I have worked it out finally. Or at least I hope so! ;)  
> Enjoy!

After yet another disastrous attempt to set him up, Mycroft begins wondering if there’s something wrong with him.

He’s nothing but polite to every potential Mate he’s been introduced to, always making sure not to show just how incredibly dull he finds them. It really doesn’t matter to him, all he wants is the alliance so his parents will finally leave him alone and with any luck, they’ll also stop pressuring Sherlock into finding a Mate of his own.

Someone who he can tolerate would be nice, someone he actually liked seems like too much to ask. And yet-

He sighs, finally allowing himself to stop running and dropping himself at the cliff’s edge, staring at the horizon thoughtfully. He feels lonely and perhaps a tad dejected; he has no interest in romance and he’s certainly not looking for someone, but the constant rejection still stings. At least his brother has the small consolation that he’s been as annoying as possible to all his potential suitors, so it’s not a mystery why they don’t want him, but Mycroft-

It’s a tad disappointing, truth to be told.

He becomes aware of someone coming to stand close to him and he spares a look to his right, just in time to see a glimpse of silver fur. He would snort if he could in this form and instead lets out a loud growl that he hopes the other interprets as him wanting to be alone.

Not such luck, apparently. Seconds later Gregory has come to stand right by his side, a quizzical expression on his face. Mycroft simply looks away, hiding his snout just beneath his paw, effectively shielding himself. His companion lets out what passes as a huff and drops himself next to him, watching the sinking sun in silence.

While a part of him insists he should do or say something, he realizes he’s quite content with simply enjoying the other’s company and the comfortable silence.

Which really should be troubling, but somehow it isn’t.

 

* * *

 

“Well, they’re obviously blind,” Greg points out calmly, attempting to hide the way his whole body is shivering. The night has fallen upon them and although the wise thing to do would be to head back home, neither is particularly keen on leaving the other’s company. Maybe staying in wolf form would be the smart thing to do, given the circumstances, but Mycroft found himself wanting to actually _talk_ and of course his companion had agreed.

He considers snuggling closer, if only for warmth, but while logical, he knows it’s mostly an excuse to be closer to the other. “I just- I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

Greg huffs, shaking his head. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” he argues passionately. “As I said, they’re obviously blind.”

Mycroft smirks self deprecatingly. “Or maybe you’re a little biased.”

His companion smiles, perhaps a tad sadly, shrugging. “Perhaps,” he agrees softly. “I- given the chance, I’d definately not say no to you.”

And that’s dangerous territory. Mycroft has involuntarily tensed, not really wanting to have this particular conversation, although maybe they should. Better to get it all out there, so they can deal with the matter appropriately and put this whole… _thing_ behind them. Except-

“I wouldn’t say no to you either,” he confesses softly, although that’s the last thing he wanted to say. Gregory turns to him, evidently surprised, both eyebrows arched, mouth agape and Mycroft wants to close the distance between them and press his lips to his companion’s. It’s a most curious urge and something he’s not familiar with, but he definitely _wants._

“Oh,” Gregory murmurs, finally closing his mouth and licking his lips nervously. “That’s… umm… unexpected. I mean, Sherlock might have mentioned… but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” He smiles, a nervous and fleeting thing and Mycroft wants to be annoyed at his brother's intervention, but he can’t bring himself to. Also, he supposes he has bigger concerns right now.

He slides closer to the other male, unsure of what he’s going to do. His logical side insists this is pure madness and that he should put a stop to it before he does something he can’t undo later. But for the most part he finds himself not caring about consequences for once in his life. He wants-

Gregory whimpers and that’s when Mycroft realizes he has completely invaded the other’s space. His nose is brushing against his companion’s neck, one hand resting possessively a little too high on the other’s thigh for it to be proper and he allows his eyes to travel down Gregory’s form. Werewolves have little concern for nudity and they’re generally not very self conscious, but given their current circumstances-

Maybe it’d be wiser to pull away. Gregory is holding himself very still, his scent laced with unbidden arousal, but trying to contain himself and not do something he’ll come to regret later. It’s wrong, Mycroft knows, because he can’t actually offer him anything and if they continue like this it's very likely Mummy will have Gregory cast out from the pack and it’s terribly unfair and selfish but-

He _wants_.

He nuzzles his companion’s neck, taking a deep whiff to inhale his scent and Gregory lets out another whimper, offering his neck for better exploration. The position they’re in isn’t exactly comfortable for such explorations, but if either of them comes to sit on the other’s lap, they'll lose the little control they still retain.

“Mycroft,” Gregory pleads, although the older one isn’t quite sure what he’s asking for. He thinks once more they should stop and yet-

Gregory’s hands are suddenly gripping his forearms tightly, apparently wanting to push him away but not having any actual desire to do it. They stay like that for a beat, both incredibly tense, their hearts beating erratically, the combined scent of their arousal heady, making the air around them be filled with promise.

“I-” Gregory begins, before interrupting himself by chewing on his lip viciously. “I don’t think- god, I want, I want you so badly but I... I know there’s nothing you can offer me even if you wanted to and it sucks, it really does, but that’s the way it is. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Yes, they certainly shouldn’t have brought up the topic, but they did, even if they knew that that path lead nowhere. Mycroft opens his mouth to speak and the other shakes his head, attempting to push him away again, but his own body betrays him since there’s no actual strength in his push. “Just- just stay away. Please.”

He should. He knows he should. It’s the only logical course of action, of course, it’s the right thing to do. He knows he can’t- he’s not free to go making nonsensical choices and picking a werewolf from an extinct clan as his Mate is pure madness, but-

He pulls the other male towards him, without any actual conscience of doing so. Gregory stares at him with wide open eyes, fearful but intrigued. His whole body is relaxed, malleable, not at all showing any wish to run and that’s all Mycroft really cares about right now.

Why does it matter if the whole world won’t approve? Why should they care?

He presses his lips against his companion’s tentatively, testing the waters. It’s- weird, he’ll admit, not at all what he expected. The other makes an odd noise in the back of his throat before throwing his arms around his neck, finally climbing into his lap and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. That’s somehow even weirder, but not unpleasant and Mycroft melts against him, closing his eyes to fully enjoy the sensation.

It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world and he doesn’t care if that’s sentimental of him. Werewolves as a whole might not be prone to romanticism, but what he feels right now, what he feels for the other male-

It has to be love. There’s just no other way to explain it.

“We can’t,” Gregory murmurs, when they pull away for air, resting his forehead against Mycroft’s. “We- this isn’t how it works. There are rules to follow, expectations to be meet-”

And Mycroft would laugh because under any other circumstances he’d be the one saying such things, but right now- “I don’t care,” he whispers back and he never thought such words would ever slip from his lips. “I just want to be with you.”

The Omega looks at him, biting his lip gently, hesitating one last time. They both know this is likely to end badly, but it’s evident they’re past caring. This feeling between them has grown too much to be ignored and they can’t simply walk away.

Even if that’s what they should do.

Even if it’s about to cost them greatly.

 

* * *

 

Werewolves mate for life.

What exactly counts as mating… well, that’s an interesting question. One that Mycroft had never even thought about, because the main purpose of sex is reproduction and penetration is required for that and so he had assumed that whenever he got around engaging in any sort of sexual activity, it would eventually come down to that.

Now he’s not sure what to think.

“We’re so dead,” Gregory murmurs, nuzzling the underside of his jaw, not sounding as concerned as he probably should. “Oh god, what have we done?”

Mycroft hums, running a hand down his partner’s spine. Now that the post orgasmic haze is passing, they are obviously having second thoughts. Although not really, because he doesn’t regret it, even if he somewhat regrets the circumstances. It’s rather frown upon to mate without having received the blessing from both the Council of Elders and the pack’s Leader, but he supposes that if he wasn’t who he was, maybe Mummy would be willing to overlook their little… indiscretion.

Things being what they are though-

“I don’t-” he begins, before sighing, pressing his nose against the top of his companion’s head, his scent comforting despite it all. “I think- I think I love you.”

He can feel Gregory blinking against his chest and then the other werewolf sits up a bit straighter, so they can look into each other’s eyes. His eyes are open very wide, a slightly wary look in his face, but whatever he sees reflected on Mycroft’s eyes seems to please him, because he grins brightly shortly after, letting out a half hysteric laugh.

“Oh god, timing, Mycroft, timing!” He continues laughing, resting his forehead against his. “God, I- I-” He shakes his head, smile firmly in place. “What happened with love being a human concept?”

Mycroft considers his answer for a couple of minutes and Gregory seems content with letting him think about it. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly, tightening his hold around his lover’s waist.

“This isn’t… I mean, before… you were pretty upset before,” Gregory murmurs, fingers toying idly with his chest hair. “Maybe you just- I mean, have you considered-?”

Mycroft silences him with a kiss that the other returns enthusiastically. “You realize this might doom us both, don’t you?” he argues when they finally pull away for breath. “Do you think I’d risk- Do you think I’d be willing to risk your safety and well being just for some meaningless comfort?”

His companion doesn’t reply, simply snuggling closer and Mycroft sighs, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too,” Gregory whispers after what feels like an eternity, startling the older male. “And I- I know you’d never be that thoughtless.”

What they’ve done is pretty stupid, but yes, Mycroft isn’t thoughtless. He knows he has made a very risky gamble, but he hopes it’ll pay off. “The Council would be unwilling to have the clan’s Heir cast out, particularly considering my brother…” he trails off, waving a hand meaningfully. “And casting you out wouldn’t be very beneficial for my health. Not to mention I can’t- werewolves mate for life.”

Gregory hums. “Do you reckon this counts?”

Mycroft considers it for a long while, one of his hands tracing circles on his partner’s hip. “I wouldn’t want to presume but maybe- maybe we should…?” he trails off awkwardly, blushing a bit and the other male arches an eyebrow, amused. “I don’t… umm… do you…?”

“Well,” Gregory says, deciding to put him out of his misery. “If we’re indeed doomed… we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can.”

He kisses him again, slow and tender and Mycroft replies in kind, even if in the back of his mind he’s quietly panicking.

What he said earlier… well, he wants to believe it’s true, but he has his doubts. Sherlock might be unfit for leadership, but it’s certainly his right even if he’d never actually want it. He’s risking far too much and what’s worse, he’s also jeopardizing his brother’s future.

But then he and Gregory are kissing enthusiastically once again and he realizes that, for once in his life, he wants to be selfish and reckless and give into his desires.

Consequences be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> It’s perhaps a tad on the short side, but I hope you enjoyed it! Also, I can’t write smut to save my life, so I hope that just leaving it implied wasn’t horribly disappointing? Also, did it feel a bit rushed? I wrote it the last part shortly after I decided to start the fic, so I’m worried it doesn’t really fit despite the adjustments I made so… let me know what you thought!  
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… here’s a new chapter. Surprisingly enough, it also turned out to be the last one.  
> I have no clue how that happened, but it seemed like the organic place to take it, although I worry it feels a bit… flat at best, disappointing at worst.  
> But well… I hope you think that’s not the case ;)  
> Enjoy!

Making his way back home, Mycroft thinks he’s never been more nervous in his life.

Which is funny, because just 20 minutes or so ago, he felt practically invencible. So high on hormones, he hadn’t even considered the possibility that things might not go according to his hopes and if that’s indeed the case, he has landed himself in a world of trouble.

His main concern, however, is not his own well being but the well being of the people he loves the most in the world: his brother and his, now, Mate.

It’s weird how just yesterday he kept telling himself there was no such thing as love and now the word resonates inside his mind as the most important truth. Everything that he did last night was an act of love, although he has yet to learn whether or not he made a mistake. He doesn’t regret it, he doesn’t think he ever could, no matter what might come.

Still-

His brother is sitting outside their cave, stubbornly refusing to fall asleep although Mycroft can tell he’s deadly tired. The minute he sees him, he snaps into attention, sitting up, tail wagging even if that’s the sort of thing Sherlock would deny to his dying day. Mycroft smiles, or at least he attempts to as well as he can in his current form, moved by his brother’s concern. They don’t have an easy relationship, but he knows he does care.

Besides, he supposes his behaviour was odd enough to cause concern.

Sherlock scrunches his nose, evidently picking up Gregory’s scent and his eyes open very wide, staring unbelieving at him. Then he huffs, turning into human form just long enough to wrap his arms around his brother in a congrulatory hugh. Mycroft allows himself to bask in his brother’s warmth, using this extra time to brace himself for what’s likely to be an uncomfortable talk and licks his brother’s cheek when he finally lets him go.

Sherlock makes a face, but doesn’t do anything other than smile indulgently. It’s weird, how their usual positions are reversed and he allows himself to relax, if only for a beat.

“You know Mummy isn’t going to be pleased,” Sherlock murmurs gently, his voice a barely audible murmur. “But I’m happy for you. Regardless of what everyone says or of what happens next- I’m happy for you.”

For a second, Mycroft wants to turn around and run away, the actual weight of his actions finally sinking in, but he quickly recovers, telling himself that for all his sins, he’s not a coward.

He’ll face the consecuences of his acts head on and, with any luck, it’ll work out for the best.

Then again, he has never believed luck to be on his side.

* * *

 

He expected Mummy not to be happy, but he never expected this uncontained fury.

He looks around the teared up living room, his brother and father staying in a corner looking more than a tad scared on his behalf. They both have tried to intervene a couple of times, just to be silenced by the darkest glare from Mummy, making them promptly retreat to a corner, trying not to attract attention. Mummy’s scent is sour with anger and frustration and he supposes it’s even more overwhelming on the pair of Omegas, biologically dispossed to run away from an enraged Alpha.

“What were you even thinking?!” his mother yells, once she has run out of things to throw in his general direction. She’s still looking for something that might actually hurt him and so he figures it’s in his best interest to be as honest as possible.

Problem is- “I don’t know,” he answers sincerely, earning himself a dirty glare for the female. “But I do know this- I do not regret it.”

“You foolish boy,” she hisses darkly, having found a candle stick and this one nearly does hit him on the shoulder. “This is the sort of foolishness I expected from Sherlock but you- you, my oldest, the one I actually thought I could trust to be smart… you’ve dissapointed me, Mycroft.”

The words sting worse than any hit would, but he forces himself to keep his face perfectly blank, straightening up his spine and holding his chin tight. “I’m sorry you feel this way, mother,” he says, perhaps a tad too proudly and she huffs. “But what’s done is done and nothing you can do or say will change it.”

“I should banish you both,” she murmurs, mostly to herself. “Only not, because that might actually be a good thing for you. No, I should just banish  _ him,  _ and let you die of a  _ broken heart, _ ” she spits the last words, expression feracious and Mycroft can’t help the shiver running down his spine. He opens his mouth to reply (to beg, really) when Sherlock interrupts.

“And leave me as Heir?” his brother questions, dragging Mummy’s attention away from him and giving him some time to reagroup. “Do you really think I’d make a decent Leader?”

The female lets out an angry growl. Sherlock takes half a step back, gulping nervously, but keeping his head held high, refusing to show just how nervous he is.  “If you thought finding my brother a partner was difficult, I can assure you you’ll find it impossible to find me one.”

“Impertinent child!” Mummy snaps, approaching him threatingly, but their father steps into her way, arms extended so he can fully cover Sherlock. Mummy growls once more, too close to turning feral for anyone’s comfort and Mycroft figures he needs to do something to defuse the situation before it explodes on their faces.

But-

“Violet,” his father pleads suddenly, voice low and somewhat soothing. “Please. The boys are right- what’s done is done.”

Mummy huffs, turning away and starting to pace. Mycroft can see his brother and father relaxing, but neither takes their eyes off the female, figuring it’d be better to be prepared and he mentally goes through every argument he can offer. But everything boils down to the fact that he does love Gregory and he’ll gladly face any consecuences that might come as a result of his  _ crime. _

“Get out,” his mother orders finally, not turning to him. “This isn’t your home anymore.”

It really isn’t. Tradition dictates a new bonded pair must find their own place shortly after bonding, never to return to their parents home. This however- well, Mycroft isn’t quite sure about the implications.

“Mummy-” he begins, only to be interrupted by his mother’s warning growl. He considers the merits of staying longer and promptly decides there’s nothing left for him to do here.

He turns around and leaves the cave, feeling like an scolded pup, figurative tail between his legs.

God, what a mess.

* * *

 

“I take it your parents didn’t take the news well?” Gregory asks the minute he walks into his cave, corcern lacing his tone despite his attempt to keep it light. Mycroft sighs, not yet shifting to human form, unsure of what he can say.

His partner offers him a small smile before dropping himself on the floor, carefully wrapping his arms around him, as if unsure his touch is welcome. Mycroft sinks his snout on his companion’s neck, taking in his familiar scent in an effort to sooth his fried nerves.

“Oh love,” Gregory murmurs softly, one hand running up and down his spine. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

He has nothing to feel sorry for and he knows he should say it, but he can’t bring himself to turn just yet. He feels entirely too raw and the last thing he wants to do now is  _ talk. _

His Mate seems to sense it, because he doesn’t press for anything, instead continuing his soothing motions. His other hand has come to scracth right behind Mycroft’s ear and he can’t help the contented sound that escapes him, earning himself a giggle from his lover. It’s nice and pleasant and comfortable and he just wishes-

Well. He supposes things are bound to get difficult now.

But in all honesty, he wouldn’t change anything.

* * *

 

“Mycroft? Mycroft, love, there’s someone here to see you.”

Mycroft blinks awake, briefly confused by his surroundings and the voice coaxing him awake. He’s not quite sure where he is or what happened, but as the seconds pass and memories start coming back to him, he feels the tiredness of the day before threatening to overwhelm him once more.

“What’s going on?” he asks, once he finally sits up. His partner is smiling at him faintly, almost wistfully and Mycroft finds it most puzzling, but before he can say something the rest of his lover’s words register. “Who’s here?”

Gregory just smiles, pulling him up. He follows him into the living room, just to come face to face with his brother. Sherlock is sitting by the small table, typing his fingers nervously against his knee and he offers him a brief smile before looking away.

“Sherlock, what’s going on?” he asks gently, sitting next to him, placing a hand on his knee in an attempt to make him look at him. Sherlock hesitates for a beat, biting his lip, before sighing.

“Mummy says… well, apparently the Council has found me good prospect for a Mate.”

Mycroft’s heart constricts painfully inside his chest, thinking he never meant for his happiness to be at his brother’s cost. Sherlock seems to understand what he’s thinking, for he rolls his eyes dramatically. “Please, this had a long time coming,” he says, tone bitter. “It has nothing to do with you.”

“But-”

“Since I have managed to scare off every potential suitor from every neighboring clan,” his brother continues, as if he hadn’t spoken. “The Concuil thought maybe I’d be better off with a Mate of a different race.”

Mycroft’s jaw drops to the ground and somewhere in the background he can hear Gregory’s own unbelieving sound, but Sherlock soldiers on before either can say a word. “They intend to marry me off to a human.”

Mycroft closes his mouth, unsure of what he can possibly say. He can’t help thinking it’s all his fault and he wishes- “Mycroft,” his brother interrupts once more. “I meant what I said before; I’m glad you’re happy and if this is the price to pay for it… well, so be it.”

Oh, his poor baby brother. “Sherlock, I’m so sorry-”

Sherlock rolls his eyes once more. “Didn’t you hear a single word I just said? None of this is your fault, brother and I… well, I’m not thrilled, obviously, but it could be far worse. And maybe…” he trails off, chewing on his lip and Mycroft understands perfectly well the thought that he has left unsaid.

“Do you… umm… should I…”

“Mummy said that… she said you should forget everything she said yesterday. She’s not happy about it, but she’s willing to overlook your  _ foolishness  _ if you make sure things work out with me.”

Mycroft watches him in silence, meassuring his words. He would never wish for his brother to be unhappy, but- “Sherlock, I… I don’t know what to do.”

His brother shrugs. “Well, I’d suggest trying to get back into Mummy’s good graces.”

He’s never felt more torn in his life.

What is he supposed to do now?

* * *

 

“You’re feeling guilty,” Gregory says, coming to sit next to him just outside their new home. His partner is warm against his side and Mycroft melts against him, comforted by his sole presence. Gregory wraps an arm around his waist, humming softly as Mycroft starts nuzzling his jaw.

“I just…” Mycroft murmurs, unsure of what he wants to say. “I can’t help feeling selfish.”

Gregory hums once more, rubbing a hand up and down Mycroft’s arm. “Truth to be told though… you knew your parents were going to marry him off sooner or later. Of course this might have made them consider more… extreme meassures, but it wasn’t a fate he could actually escape.” No, technically Sherlock couldn’t have escaped his fate, but then again… Mycroft had, hadn’t he? “And who knows? Maybe he’ll be fine with the humans; you know how  _ interesting  _ he finds them.”

Yes, but now he’d be forced to be living with them and the prospect is… worrying, to say at least. “I hope you’re right,” he murmurs, snuggling closer to him, guilt still somewhat eating him alive, but-

He can’t imagine trading this for anything in the world.

And if that makes him horribly selfish… well, he can’t really deny it.

* * *

 

The meeting with the human’s monarch goes well; much better than Mycroft thought it would. Sherlock is nervous, he can tell, but he’s observing everything curiously, nervous but eager to learn and Mycroft silently prays he’ll be fine.

As they make their way around the Castle while Prince John shows them around, he keeps on praying the prince will be good to his brother.

And when they finally leave, his brother actually smiling briefly at his fiancé…

Well, he dares to believe everything will actually work out alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… how’s that for an ending?  
> I feel… a bit underwhelmed with it, to be honest, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what else I was going to write. It feels a bit plain, although I think it does work tying it with “long shot” but I just don’t know. I’m not very happy with it.  
> I think I might add some more at some point in the future, but not quite sure when. I feel there’s more that needs to be said, but I’m not sure what exactly, so…   
> I hope you enjoyed it though! I want to thank everyone for reading, leaving kudos and/or commenting. You guys are the best and since inspiration is a fickle mistress, it’s you the ones that keep me writing ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> A lot of the plot was supposed to fit in the original version of Long shot, but it would have messed up big time with the plot there and well… it seems fair to give these two silly boys their chance to shine on their own (or rather, their chance to be silly and stubborn and ridiculous on their own.) As I said, I fear this first chapter feels a bit like an info dump at parts, but I hope it wasn’t horrible?  
> BTW, of course Mycroft isn’t marrying anyone that’s not Greg. I mean, come on, I can do that to John and Sherlock, but never to these two (huh. That’s weird, isn’t it?). We’ll see how the engagement pans out in the next chapter ;) I hope next update won’t take very long, but it’ll depend on my inspiration :P Also, we’ll get Greg’s backstory, I swear! In bits and pieces, probably, but we’ll get it. I hope that wasn’t super confusing!  
> Anyway… let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!


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